There Was A Time
by jesus-on-a-unicycle
Summary: It had been a thousand years since Merlin had sent Arthur to Avalon, and the weight of the departure wore him down over the long years he spent waiting. But a friend that he thought he could rely on, who was dealing with his own pain, offered to help by taking Merlin home, and perhaps bringing back a piece of that home with him.
1. Chapter 1

Merlin had long lost his ability to become shocked at the future's going ons. In fact, time had lost most of its meaning to him. He remembered, vaguely, of a time that would shock or incite any emotion in him. But that time had long gone by, and had faded away from him.

He had dreamed about it, sometimes. That time. He dreamed about it when he had finally nodded off to sleep after days, perhaps, of staying awake. He would sleep and try everything in his power to stay asleep and dream of miraculous creatures, the glint of armor; Merlin dreamed of the sun shining on the lakes and rivers, golden rays setting golden hair ablaze and rich laughter. Clouded memories became clear as crystal and as sharp as a blade.

But soon, too soon, Merlin would wake, even though he might have been asleep for days. And he would go through the motions again, like he did every year, and wait for his dream to come back to him.

However, when the first knock came from his apartment door, Merlin looked up in a small spark of surprise. He got up from his bed, having been staring out the window since he had woken about thirty minutes before. He didn't bother clothing himself in Emrys, and cautiously approached the door in his boxers and a plain, gray t-shirt that was did not protect him from the biting cold of February.

The knocking did not cease after the usually polite and simple two knocks. In fact it was intense, knocking with an increasing vigor that Merlin soon became annoyed with. He was the greatest sorcerer in all of creation! If he was stabbed, shot, or mugged, he would simply come back a few hours later with a raging headache and pins-and-needles in his arms and legs. That was the blessing and the curse of being an immortal.

Finally, when Merlin wrenched open the door with an annoyed _"what?"_, he was greeted by an alarmingly familiar face. A smiling man stood in front of him, fist still poised to continue knocking, a little red bowtie left askew and matching red suspenders with a tweed suit.

"Hello, _Mer_lin!" greeted the man enthusiastically, stepping in without being properly invited. "Always lovely to see you!" the man continued, stepping into Merlin's small and dingy living room. His expression became slightly miffed when he noticed the poor conditions that Merlin was living in. The entire living room was just a ratty old couch, a rickety coffee table, a bookcase and a heavy coating of dust. "However, I can't say that about your living room."

Merlin stopped staring at the man with a starstruck expression and scowled, closing the door roughly behind him. "Pleasure to see you, Doctor," he said, but he knew he wouldn't be angry at the Doctor for long. It was impossible to continue to be angry at a man who couldn't make fish fingers without burning them to a crisp.

"Really? I _thought_ you would be very happy to see me, Merlin!" the Doctor continued, twirling his trademark sonic screwdriver. The Doctor knew better than to conceal himself to Merlin, who had lived almost as long as the Doctor had. The Time Lord was just as lonely and just as damaged as Merlin was, and had often sought comfort in his presence.

Merlin smiled weakly, shuffling into the living room and towards the small (and equally dingy) kitchen. "Would you like something to drink? Maybe some fish fingers?" he asked playfully, looking over his shoulder at a suddenly somber alien. Merlin frowned. "What's wrong?"

The Doctor looked up at Merlin with a desperate look on his face. "No, no fish fingers," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Merlin's heart constricted with dread.

"Doctor, what happened to your newest companion? Amy?" he asked tentatively, watching with horror as the Doctor's face contorted with intense pain. He'd just heard of her a few weeks ago. The Doctor had been ecstatic with his newest choice, going on and on about her. ("She's Scottish! And a _ginger!")_

"She's... She's just fine," the Doctor whispered breathily, slumping down into the couch and trying to plaster on a fake smile. But the Doctor should know better, because Merlin knew every single one of those smiles. He'd done them himself countless times before.

Merlin didn't say anything, and simply moved to sit down next to the Doctor. He waited a few moments, and then drew an arm around the Doctor's shoulders. It was the first time that Merlin had seen the Doctor cry other than when he had come to him about Donna. But the Doctor cried to him then, sobbing into his hands and muttering things, saying that it was his fault, and that none of this would have ever happened if he had just been more careful. All Merlin could do was sit there and cradle the Doctor to him like he had done to many others, whispering encouraging things and trying to soothe away the Doctor's pain.

"I-I'm so sorry," the Doctor whispered after he had ceased crying, his hands clutching Merlin's thin gray shirt. But that's all he would say on the matter, even when Merlin tried pressing him. The Doctor was even more introverted than Merlin was, but unlike Merlin, he tried to hide it instead of embrace it. And Merlin couldn't rightly say if that was healthier.


	2. Chapter 2

Finally, the Doctor had calmed down enough to eat some of the fried delicacies that Merlin specifically kept for the Doctor's visits. They had begun to get more frequent over the years, and Merlin had eventually called the Doctor his friend. They talked of nothing and yet they talked of everything, addressing both menial and monumental topics. The Doctor spoke highly of his new companions he collected over the years, and Merlin shared that he had gone out of the flat that day, or that he had finally gotten a steady-paying job. The Doctor crowed over his achievements and Merlin applauded and wished to meet every companion that the Doctor spoke of. And, ritually, the Doctor would ask Merlin to go on a little adventure with him.

"Come on, Merlin!" the Doctor would say, grabbing onto Merlin's thin shoulders and grinning like a fool. "It'll be fun! I can take you anywhere; anywhere you want to go, I'll take you! Travel the universe; travel through time! You can't deny it'd be fun, eh? What do you say?"

And, ritually, Merlin would say no. There was only one place that Merlin wanted to be. And even though he longed for it, he didn't know if he could get there, or how much it would hurt.

* * *

After a while, Merlin had given up trying to correct the Doctor's odd tastes. He had drawn the line at tasting the strange combination of custard and fish fingers, and refused to eat them regularly (if at all). The Doctor loved the combination. However, this time, he was merely picking at his food, dipping his fish finger in the bowl of custard and looking crestfallen. It made Merlin ache to see him in such a distressed state.

"How can I cheer you up, hmm?" Merlin asked after a while of just watching the Doctor play around with his food. "What will it take?" he insisted, becoming incredibly sincere. He didn't want his only friend to be depressed. He wanted him to talk, to get it out. To be happy, because Merlin was sure that he himself wouldn't be, and he needed the Doctor's ray of genocide-laced sunshine in his long and nearly insufferable life.

The Doctor looked up at him sadly, green eyes speaking miles upon miles of hurt. "You could come traveling with me."

It hurt Merlin to hear him say it. He knew the words were empty; he didn't expect him to say yes. Merlin thought about it, watching as the Doctor lapsed back into playing with his fish fingers. What if he did go traveling with him? What if he took a trip on what he called "the Death Trap TARDIS"? If it made the Doctor happy...

But where would he go? Certainly he wouldn't ask to go to Camelot, even though that's the only place Merlin truly wanted to be.

"Fine," Merlin said suddenly, watching as the Doctor's head snapped up in surprise. Merlin offered a tentative smile in response. "I might as well. You've been asking me for how long? At least three hundred years?" he asked playfully, inwardly hoping he had made a wise decision.

The Doctor's face broke out into a bright grin, a laugh escaping him madly as he nearly tipped the bowl of custard over, scrambling to reach across the table and envelope Merlin in a tight hug.

"Oh, fantastic! Absolutely brilliant!" the Doctor exclaimed as he embraced Merlin, who was stuck in a half-leaning position that dug the edge of the table into his stomach. "We'll go right now! I'll take you anywhere you want to go!"

"Doctor," Merlin said, his voice muffled against the other man's shoulder, "I have to get dressed, first."

Then the Doctor then released Merlin and bumbled about, saying that he would wait for him downstairs, for that's where the TARDIS was, and he'd get everything straightened out for him in there. Merlin merely smiled as the Doctor stumbled out of the apartment and hopefully took the lift, because he was afraid of the Doctor falling down the stairs in the excited state he was in.

Merlin moved with a caution that could only be described as melancholy. He hadn't been out of the apartment in about a month or so. He hated the idea of going outside, taking him away from his dream world that he could escape to when reality became too much.

Merlin walked into his bedroom and sighed. He had a very lumpy twin bed and a dusty nightstand, with a wardrobe pushed against one wall and dark navy curtains blocking out the sun from the only window. The walls were white and unadorned and the sheets on his lumpy bed matched the color of the curtains.

Merlin never had much space to begin with, so he didn't require lots of it. He could have a lavish palace, could conjure lush gardens and fragrant flowers; he could create a fountain and have waterfalls playing about the grounds. But he never had a desire for such things. He was only just one man, after all. What was the point of beauty when you had no one to share it with?

Merlin dressed slowly, his hands shaking at the thought of what he was doing. He would ask to go back to Camelot, where everything changed. He was going to see them all again; the faces that were bright against his mind's eye; like sunbeams from a faraway happiness he once could hold in the palm of his hand. He was a cocktail of excitement, anxiety and hope. He was going back to the time of his dreams; before his skin was marked with scars, before his heart had been reduced to tatters.

Once he had finished, he looked at himself in the mirror. He wore a worn, old, red zip-up jacket and a white t-shirt underneath it and dark jeans. He'd learned that keeping up with the fashion gave him a sense of invisibility. Besides, these clothes fitted him much better than the baggy clothes he had worn a long time ago.

Before he left, however, he opened the wardrobe a little wider and stooped down to the bottom of it. The wardrobe had a false bottom, which he opened with a muttered word under his breath and his eyes flashing liquid gold. He smiled when the drawer creaked open, excited at how he could still do magic. It was something that never left him. He didn't do it regularly, but when he did, he loved it. He always had.

When he reached inside the false bottom, his hand brushed away thick layers of dust to reveal an old, tattered cloth. He smiled at the time-softened scarf, holding up to the light. The color had almost faded, but it still faintly retained its blue pigment. It was extremely fragile; Merlin was half-surprised it hadn't totally been reduced to dust. But magic helped that.

Merlin ended up tying the scarf around his neck, completing his outfit. He almost smiled at the mirror, his eyes crinkling up like the way they used to when Arthur made a joke. His heart twanged in his chest at the thought of him.

He managed to get downstairs and to where the TARDIS was parked without much trouble after that. He knew what the TARDIS looked like; he'd been inside a few times after the Doctor insisted he come see a new part of his ship or a companion. Merlin warmly remembered Donna, who he saw a lot of. She was one of his favorites, and it saddened him to understand that she had to go. The Doctor hadn't been very clear on the details, but Merlin didn't press him. He knew too well the spines and barbs of loss. That was the first time he had ever seen the Doctor's newest form. He could still remember the conversation he had the Time Lord the very first time he regenerated. That was the tenth time, the Doctor said to him. Merlin couldn't fathom changing his face more than twice.

He knocked politely on the TARDIS door, smiling at its navy blue frame. The color had been associated with welcome and kindness since he had met the Doctor. That was what inspired him to make his curtains the color of the TARDIS, as well as his bed sheets. He needed to feel welcomed into his bedroom. It was where he was most happy, anyway.

The Doctor opened the doors with a flourish, all smiles and bright green eyes. Merlin couldn't help but smile back at him and step inside the police box. "Welcome to the new TARDIS."

Merlin stepped inside and was slammed by the sheer impossibility of it. The TARDIS seemed more cavernous than usual, with high ceilings alight in icy blue. He stepped down the chrome stairs toward the main console, which looked sleek and newly polished. The energy core inside the shining glass gleamed like the turquoise blue frost of a soul. Above it, two rings rotated, dark black lettering engraved in silver metal, etching words in Gallifreyan, the Doctor's native language. Merlin didn't realize he was smiling in awe until he saw the Doctor's pleased expression and wringing hands.

"You like it, then?" the Doctor asked, as if he was a child seeking praise.

Merlin found himself grinning at the Doctor, finding the best word he could ever apply to the TARDIS already sliding off his tongue. "It's sexy."

The Doctor grinned extremely brightly at that, already beginning to prance toward the console, bubbling with energy. "Alright, Merlin Emrys!" he crowed, twisting some knobs absentmindedly, as if driving the TARDIS was second nature. "Where do you want to go?"

The Doctor didn't even have to ask. He just punched in the time anyway, already resting his hand on the lever. He looked up at Merlin with an excited grin, one that Merlin responded to with a hesitant smile of his own, a thousand-year-old hesitation accompanied with a hope that even the Doctor found heartwrenching.

"Take me home, Doctor," Merlin said, his voice soft and his dark blue eyes glimmering with hope. "Take me home."


End file.
